is back again,
sitting behind my head
and pushing it forward
with eager optimism
towards this new promise
(which hasn't been made
between anyone except my head & Hope,
a suicide pact naively made
in a heady moment of thoughtlessness.)
"Hold on, hold back,"
(I resist)
"Why should this time be any different from the last?"
Hope twists my arm
and digs me in the ribs,
teasing, with a playful grin
that shows me it knows it will always win.
And I want him so much to be right.